


FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 8/8

by trancer



Series: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith [8]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara and Kahlan are married spies, with a *mostly* picture perfect marriage. But, when Cara's past catches up to them, their lives are about to change in the most unexpected of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 8/8

**Chapter Eight**

VANCOUVER, D’HARIST COLUMBIA, D’HARA

On any other day, the auditorium for the D’Haran Loyalist Party held all the excitement and raucousness of a tea party in a cemetery. Today was completely different. The room completely packed, with the energy and excitement of a rock concert. They were all here for one reason and one reason only.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice announced through the speakers. “I present to you DARKEN RAHL!!”

He strode across the stage, waving a polite hand to the crowd. Women screamed, fainted, flashed their breasts. Panties, and the occasional pair of boxers, were thrown onto the stage. Middle-aged men in business suits and balding heads stood on their chairs, swinging red and black scarves over their heads as they chanted.

“Rahl! Rahl! Rahl!”

Darken Rahl stood at the podium, pushing back a lock of hair from his forehead with a thumb. Hair now fully restored to its former and lustrous glory - it really was all about the conditioner. A hundred flashbulbs from the flock of media before him went off all at once. He stood on the stage, in his ceremonial red and black robe, the one his father once wore. The audience continued to roar and applaud even as Rahl raised his arms and waved for them to quiet.

“People,” he gestured a placating motion with his arms, even while enjoying their adoration. Rahl placed his hands on the podium, as the audience finally quieted down and he leaned into the mic. “First, I would like to take this opportunity to publicly denounce the despicable attempt to assassinate our Prime Minister.” The audience grumbled, showing their distaste for the Prime Minister. “While the Prime Minister and myself may disagree politically, we and the Loyalist Party fully agree that violence is never the answer. I have no doubts D’Hara will be restored to its former glory. But, it will be by the will of the people and not the actions of a lone madwoman.”

The applause was deafening as the audience rose to its feet. The corners of Darken Rahl’s lips pulled ever so slightly. He tilted his head, making sure the cameras got his good side as the flashes illuminated the stage like a lightening storm.

“Now,” he paused as he retook the microphone, letting the audience settle. “In regards to certain rumors that I will be running for Prime Minister in next year’s election..” The audience, once again, let their opinion be known with another wave of rowdy applause. Rahl smiled politely before interrupting their moment. “I am here to say, the rumors are false. I have no intentions of running for public office.”

The room went deadly still. The sounds of faint sniffling, women but mostly men, began to carry over the room. A cry of ‘NO!’ was shouted across the room, repeated by more until it was a chaotic chorus.

“But, I am not here to talk to you about politics,” Rahl continued, their voices quieting down once more. “But to share with you some rather joyous news that I hope will mean as much to the people of D’Hara as it does to me. As you know, I’ve been in seclusion for many months. My detractors would have you believe it’s because I’m up to some nefarious and dastardly deed. A year ago, I learned some disturbing news about my father through some letters I‘d recently found in our home. I’d always grown up believing I was an only child. You can imagine my shock and horror to learn that not only had my father sired other children but they’d been stolen from him, as well. Not just stolen from my father,” Rahl pounded a fist on the podium. “But from the people of D’Hara who he proudly served. It was his dying wish that his family be reunited and that’s what I’ve done. After much deliberation, we’ve chosen this day, before you, the most loyal servants of D’Hara, to make this most joyous of introductions. While my.. sister is a bit shy and still wishes not to speak publicly, I’d like to take this opportunity to present to you..”

Rahl stepped back from the podium, extending his arm dramatically. “My brother.”

The crowd hushed as a figure stepped out from the side of the stage, the silence turning to a loud and collective gasp, then loud and angry ’boo’s’ as the man stepped into the light and towards Darken Rahl.

Richard Cypher, wearing a red and black doublet, stepped to the podium. “I’m sure all of you know who I am. I’m here to tell you, ten months ago, I wasn’t on some rooftop in Venice and I haven’t been recuperating in some hospital in Aydindril. I’ve been here, in D’Hara..” Richard paused, turning to glance at Rahl with a bright smile on his face. “With my brother. And, no, I didn’t want to believe it when Darken Rahl came to me with the news. I’d been raised, like many outside D’Hara, to believe the Rahl family was evil. And it was my duty, as the Seeker, to make sure the House of Rahl never rose to power again.”

Richard shifted on his feet, his eyes and face darkening with anger. “Then I took a blood test and everything I believed crumbled. I’d been stolen from my true family. When I went to my superiors telling them I’d be spending some time with my brother, they created the ridiculous story of Rahl attempting to kill me. They’ve even gone so far as to hire a double to pose as me!” Richard inhaled deeply, composing himself. “In these past months, as I’ve gotten to know my brother and my sister, I’ve also gotten to know the people of D’Hara. Not the lies, the myths, the rumors, but the real D’Hara. So, I stand before you, not as Richard Cypher, or the Seeker but as Richard Rahl, son of D’Hara, son of Panis Rahl..”

He stepped from behind the podium, walking towards the edge of the stage. The false Richard unsheathed the Sword of Truth from his hip, raising it high above his head, his voice loud and clear as he spoke. “I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to restore D’Hara to its former glory, to place D’Hara under its true leader - the House of Rahl!”

With that, the Sword of Truth glowed, flames streaking up the metal. The audience erupted into a deafening applause.

From the stage, a curled hand held to his face, thumb gently stroking his lips, Darken Rahl smiled.

**

ALCATRAZ ISLAND

“Stay on the white line,” the guard behind the thick, bulletproof glass spoke to Kahlan through the tinny speaker. “I’ll be watching you from here. You have five minutes.”

Kahlan nodded, inhaling as a buzzer sounded and the metal gate before her slid open. She stepped through the entrance, almost jumping at the sound of the gate clanging shut behind her.

The women’s wing of Alcatraz was smaller than the five separate wings for the men but no less imposing. A former military base turned prison, Alcatraz held the world’s most dangerous prisoners - wizards and witches, practitioners of magic. The walls had even held several Confessor’s and, at one time, a Seeker. Along with brick and mortal, steel and the world’s most high-tech of security systems, the prison was also secured with a spell so strong, Kahlan could feel the magic humming beneath her feet as she walked.

There were only three prisoners in the women’s wing of Alcatraz. Technically two since the third was currently in solitary confinement. There was an eerie silence compared to the men’s wings.

Walking on the white line that bisected the corridor, Kahlan passed a darkened cell. Long, black hair streaked with gray spilled loosely down the Sister of the Dark’s shoulders. She wore nothing but the Rada’Han about her neck as she danced within her cell to some ancient tribal beat only she could hear. As Kahlan passed, the woman stopped, rushing towards the bars of her cell, bony fingers wrapping around them.

“One from two,” she chanted in a hoarse croak. “Black and white to gray. One from two, she’ll serve the Keeper one day.”

Kahlan shivered, staring at the woman’s mad eyes. The Sister of the Dark released her hold on the bars, taking up her dance as she repeated the chant over and over. Kahlan continued walking, making her way towards the other occupied cell in the wing.

She inhaled again. Not out of fear but to quell the rising anger within her at the sight of the blonde woman in the cell.

Denna, in an orange jumpsuit, sat on the bed against the far wall, back slumped, legs crossed. As Kahlan stopped on the white line, turning to face her, Denna began to clap.

“Well played, Kahlan Amnell,” Denna stopped clapping. “Well played. If I didn’t know you were a Confessor, I’d almost swear you were Mord’Sith.”

Canting her hips, Kahlan crossed her arms over her chest. “If it weren’t coming from you, I’d almost take that as a compliment.”

Denna lifted a hand, twirling a finger into the loose curls spilling about her shoulders. “Come to gloat then?”

“Something like that,” Kahlan smirked.

“Well, I hope you enjoy,” Denna leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees, eyes darkening. “Because, I can definitely guarantee it’s not going to last.”

Kahlan chuckled, the last of her nervousness draining from her. “That’s a pretty empty threat considering I’m standing here and you’re.. sitting there.”

Denna laughed, the mirth never reaching her eyes. “That’s right. You still believe me being here is due to your keen acumen instead of what it really is.”

“And what’s that?”

“The piece of a larger picture falling exactly into place. Like you, Kahlan, I‘m nothing more than a cog on the wheel, a very big cog, mind you but nothing more than a large piece of an even bigger whole. I am Mord‘Sith. I lead.. but I also serve.” Denna tilted her head, a taunting sneer on her lips. “Where’s that confident smile of yours now, Kahlan?”

Kahlan shifted nervously. Part of her knew this was nothing more than a game, a way for Denna to get under her skin. But, she also saw it in Denna’s eyes, that somewhere within all the lies there was a kernel of truth.

“Oh Kahlan,” Denna sighed wistfully, rising from the bed and swaggering across the floor towards Kahlan. “In all the time you’ve known Cara, you really should have asked her a few more questions before you slid that ring on your finger. Because that one?” Denna pressed a curled hand to her face, like she was exchanging secrets, whispering softly. “Has secrets.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I understand the attraction.” Denna pressed her back to the wall, folding her arms over chest, placing an ankle over the other. “She *is* a beauty. She gets it from me, you know. The hand fisting your hair as she fucks you. The teeth clamping on the inside of your thigh. That little extra push of her fingers when she..”

“Denna,” Kahlan growled, hands curling into fists.

“Sorry,” she placed a hand to her chest, eyelashes batting demurely. “Did I touch a nerve?”

She could feel the anger rising within her. Denna was behind bars yet Kahlan felt like the one trapped in a cage. As a Confessor, she could tell whether a person was lying or telling a truth. Unless they were a Mord’Sith. Kahlan looked into Denna’s eyes and saw nothing but deception.. and truth, with no way to discern which was which.

“One minute, Mrs. Mason,” the guard’s voice crackled through the speaker system.

“Oooh,” Denna taunted. “Time’s running out.”

Ignoring the rules, Kahlan stepped off the white line. “Tell me what you know?”

“What will you give me in return?” She raked her eyes up and down Kahlan’s frame. “A conjugal visit? I can *definitely* see what Cara sees in you. To taint all that.. purity. That’s a temptation even a Mord’Sith couldn’t refuse.”

“Denna!” Kahlan snapped. “Tell me!”

“How about this?” Denna pushed herself from the wall, grasping the bars and placing her face between them. “Have you ever wondered why the MBI still hasn’t found the agent that recruited Cara? Why they would let someone immune to the powers of Confession fall so easily into the Mord’Sith’s grasp?”

“It was a set-up,” Kahlan gaped. “From the beginning?”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” Denna shrugged. “I am a habitual liar with a penchant for torture. Maybe I’m telling the truth when I say The Powers That Be’s interest in Cara is done. And maybe I’m lying when I say - your daughter?” Her eyes glinted wildly. “They’ve only just begun.”

In a flash, Kahlan’s eyes went from blue to black, her hand whipping out, reaching through the bars. Denna laughed as she jumped back from Kahlan’s touch.

“TELL ME!” Kahlan screamed. “TELL ME!!”

Kahlan continued screaming even as the guards, trained in dealing with Confessor’s, tackled her to the ground and pulled her, kicking and screaming, from the wing.

**

AYDINDRIL, NEW ZEALAND

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Kahlan?” Cara sounded completely drained as she spoke into the MBI provided cell phone.

“Cara?” Kahlan answered. “Oh my God! Where are you?”

Cara smiled, blinking slowly, tired, relieved. “I’m home.”

Cara quietly slipped her key into the Amnell home. She’d spent the last two weeks in MBI ‘custody’, which felt more like ‘imprisonment’ as she was repeatedly questioned over both her captivity with the Mord’Sith and her involvement in the attempted assassination of the D’Haran Prime Minister. No lawyer, no phone calls, and no interaction with Kahlan.

That didn’t matter to Cara. All that mattered was the safety of her family and, now, they were finally safe. She’d face interrogation, a trial, even execution if it meant keeping her family safe. So, she answered their questions, perhaps, leaving out some of the more ‘salacious’ events (where all of her appendages were at any given time was Cara’s business).

But even Cara Mason, former Mord’Sith and the Shadow, had friends in high places, including a Seeker and a Wizard of the First Order. A couple of phone calls and it was decided whatever questions remained could be asked at the MBI facility in Aydindril. Just like that, Cara was on a private charter (with armed escorts, of course) to the Confessor’s Palace. Where she was quickly escorted to another empty room, and asked ever more questions. Until day turned to night and Cara, completely spent, merely laid her head onto the desk and fell asleep mid-question.

A day later, Cara was released and she went home. When Kahlan didn’t meet Cara at the airport, Cara thought nothing of it. It never occurred to her that no one had bothered to tell her wife that she was entering the country. Cara, never fond of either surprises or parties, didn’t want a welcoming party. She just didn’t expect the dead silence that greeted her as she opened the door.

All full Confessor’s were commissioned homes within Aydindril. The Amnell home had been in Kahlan’s family for almost 500 years. A two-story house with a low, thatched roof, white timbered walls and latticed windows that seemed to rise from the high-growth garden around it.

Cara had only been here one time before and never inside. Back when she was a Mord’Sith, those first days after Denna had ordered her to kill Kahlan Amnell and Cara was merely researching. Kahlan had always resided in DC, after which, she moved in with Cara in Miami. It’d been Thanksgiving, the last time Cara was here. And she’d stood outside in the garden, watching like some creepy stalker as Kahlan, Dennee, Richard and Zedd sat at the dinner table, laughing and eating. The casual familiarity between them. The Mord’Sith were trained to view such emotional bonding’s as weakness but, seeing them, seeing Kahlan’s face as she smiled so lovingly at the faces around her, it called to something locked away tight within Cara that she couldn’t quite understand. At least, not then..

Cara understood now.

The house was more modern on the inside than the exterior. It smelled of fresh flowers cut from the garden, Kahlan’s chicken soup and baby powder. There were still unopened boxes strewn about the first level, like Kahlan was still in the process of moving in though she’d been living in the residence for almost a year. Like she was still waiting for Cara to return, so they both could put their personal marks on their new home.

At the fireplace, Cara drifted her fingers over the mantle, and the seemingly dozens of photographs Kahlan had placed upon it - Kahlan and Dennee as children, a rare photo of Cara alone, their wedding photo. Isabel.

No more than a day old, tiny and pink and perfect, swaddled in a blanket and held in a smiling but tired looking Kahlan’s arms.

Cara wiped her gloved hands on her jacket, as if the picture was old, fragile, about to dissolve into dust the first moment her fingers touched it. The picture stayed solid in her hands. She brushed a fingertip over their faces, mother and daughter together.

Cara, the photo still in her hand, turned from the fireplace and headed up the stairs. Their child was only a couple months old and, already, there was a baby gate installed at the top of the stairs. Probably by Richard, and Cara smiled, bemused at the thought of he and Zedd arguing over the instructions.

Slowly, she pushed open the door to Isabel’s room. Instinctively knowing which door was her daughter‘s. Colored in soft shades of pink, probably Dennee’s idea, it had all the accoutrements one expected to find in a nursery - crib, dresser with changing table, chair, toy box, brightly colored pictures on the walls. And still to Cara, it felt empty. Unlived in. Cara immediately knew why.

She made her way to Kahlan’s bedroom. And it was exactly like Cara pictured it, after the multitude of conversations regarding how Kahlan would decorate the home in Aydindril. The master bedroom was the largest room on the second floor, decorated in muted colors, a four-poster bed, dresser, desk, Cara’s foot locker from their Miami home. And, across from the bed where the evening sun spilled light onto it, sat another crib.

Cara knew Kahlan. Knew Kahlan would never be able to sleep without their daughter close by. Because Cara couldn’t sleep, hadn’t really slept in the past months, knowing her family was in danger.

She moved to the rocking chair next to the crib. Sitting down, a long, ragged sigh escaped Cara’s lips, like her bones had completely dissolved. The tension she’d kept within her for so long, finally releasing. She was home. Really home, in the house that smelled like flowers and baby powder. In the room with the crib their daughter slept in. Home. The word had meant so little for so long to Cara, stripped of its meaning, perverted into something else by the people she’d spent almost half her life with.

A key slid into the front door and Cara’s eyes snapped open.

“Cara?” Kahlan called out to her.

“Upstairs,” she swallowed hard, suddenly thankful she was wearing gloves because her palms had begun to sweat. “The master bedroom.”

In the grand scheme of things, it was a minor panic attack. Which Cara did *not* have. Cara Mason does not have panic attacks. Panic attacks were for the weak, as were doubts and anxieties and fears. And Cara felt all those things as she heard Kahlan ascend the stairs. Was she worthy, deserving? Would she bring her wife and daughter joy or just more pain?

The marriage thing had been easy to get accustomed to. Because marriage was easy. Nothing more than putting a ring on the finger of the one person you’d be having sex with for the rest of your life. Easy. But being a parent? Before, it had all been an abstract. So focused on protecting her family, Cara never considered whether she was qualified to *raise* a family. Mord’Sith did not raise children. They broke them. Cara couldn’t stand the idea of breaking her own child.

“Cara..”

Her hands tightly squeezed the armrests of the rocking chair as her eyes widened with fear. Kahlan would understand, right? She’d understand if Cara bolted, diving through the second-story window and getting as far from Kahlan and their child as possible to spare them any future pain.

But, her legs were rooted to the floor, her body frozen, eyes wide with fear as she, like a character in a horror movie, watched the door slowly open wider.

There was Kahlan’s smiling face, bright blue eyes already rimmed with red. There was a blanket, something in Kahlan’s arms wrapped in the blanket. “There’s someone who really wants to meet you.”

Kahlan stepped towards Cara, kneeling before her, lifting her arms and bringing the tiny bundle closer to Cara. “Isabel, this is your Daddy.”

And then Isabel was in Cara’s arms, Kahlan gently lifting the corner of the blanket off her face, and every single doubt in Cara’s mind disappeared. This was where she was supposed to be.

“Say ‘hi Daddy‘,” Kahlan whispered softly.

“Oh..” Cara looked down at the sleeping face and her voice went small and tiny. “Wow.”

Cara had been broken before but never like this. Her insides seared but there was no pain, just an increasing warmth as if the locked places inside her had finally burst open. Where her heart ached and it made her happy.

Her body began to tremble with an excited, nervous energy. Her eyes burned and she blinked away the tears, watching a drop fall from her cheek, landing on Isabel’s chin. And she brought her fingertips to her mouth, pulling the glove off with her teeth to brush the tiny drop of moisture away. Isabel’s skin was so soft and smooth, almost delicate and Cara lifted her eyes to Kahlan’s in disbelief.

“We did this?”

Kahlan clenched her lips, nodding hurriedly as a sniffle choked her lungs and she wiped the bottom of her nose with the back of a finger. “She looks just like you,” she spoke in a pained whisper that was anything but.

Isabel yawned and Cara crumbled because it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, even more beautiful than the birth of Night Wisps. Isabel yawned then sleepily opened her eyes.

“She has your eyes,” Cara marveled as the little eyes slowly closed again. “Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” Kahlan questioned.

Cara lifted her head to gaze upon her wife. “From the moment you found out you were pregnant, to the moment you put her in my arms. I want to know everything.”

Everything she had missed.

“Okay,” Kahlan nodded, reaching up to cup Cara‘s cheek with her hand. “Okay.”

**

Evening turned to night and between showing Cara how to feed and burp Isabel, and between the two dozen pictures she took of Cara and Isabel with her digital camera (which she was totally posting on her _ConfessorFriends_ page no matter what Cara said), Kahlan told her everything. Sure, there were still the two albums worth of photos to go through, and videos, including the one taken of Isabel’s birth but, as far as words, Kahlan told Cara everything.

Lying on her side on the bed, head propped up with a hand, Kahlan watched Cara as she held Isabel, gently rocking in the chair. She thought back to that moment on the beach in St. Maarten, when the mysterious woman rose from the waters like a siren. It hadn’t been instantaneous, except it was. Kahlan had fallen in love with Cara the first moment she saw her. And when she realized her instincts had been correct, Kahlan knew there was no one else she wanted to have a child with. Even if it took ‘powerful magic’ to accomplish.

“Cara,” Kahlan chuckled, shifting on the bed. “You’re going to spoil her rotten if you keep holding her.”

Cara huffed. “Then let her be spoiled. I have no intention of letting her out of my sight.” She lifted her head, green eyes focused on Kahlan. “I have no intention of letting you out of my sight ever again.”

The green gaze stoked a familiar spark within Kahlan. Rising from the bed, Kahlan walked towards Cara, leaning down and gently sliding her hands until Isabel was cradled in her arms.

“Kahlan,” Cara softly whined.

“I am not letting you spoil our child,” Kahlan said and Cara knew there was no point in arguing because Kahlan was using her ‘Confessor face’.

Cara stiffened in her chair as Kahlan turned and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“To put Isabel in her bed.”

“But, she’s never actually *slept* in that bed?”

Kahlan turned, gaping at her wife. “How did..” she shook her head. “She’s sleeping in her bed. It’ll only be for a couple hours.”

“But..”

Kahlan cut her off with a look. Cara deflated like a puppy just whacked on the nose. Kahlan left their bedroom, Cara hearing Kahlan cooing to the baby through the baby monitor. In less than a minute, Kahlan was back, closing the door softly behind her.

“Kah..”

“Cara,” she cut her off, a heated look growing in her eyes. “I haven’t been with my wife in almost a year. Let’s just say I’ve built up a little frustration.”

Cara’s head tilted, a glint in her eyes as she rose from the chair. “Just a little frustration?” she teased, already pulling off her other glove as she feigned a pout. “I thought you missed me.”

“Missed isn’t quite the word I’d use,” Kahlan said as they stalked towards each other.

“Then what word would you use?”

“Me?” Kahlan said, hands gripping Cara by the lapels and jerking her closer. “I don’t use words.”

The kiss was hard, bruising. Kahlan turned the two around and pushed Cara against the wall. She’d imagined this moment a thousand times. She never imagined the hurried and urgent *need* built up within her, like she needed to consume Cara, have Cara inside her. Instead of gentle and slow, the kiss was sloppy and wet, clacking teeth and dueling tongues. When Cara’s hands thread into Kahlan’s hair, Kahlan gripped them by the wrists, pushing them over Cara’s head, pinning them to the wall with a hand.

Cara had been taken from her, possessed by another. Kahlan was taking it all back. Her other hand slid between them, fumbling with Cara’s belt, yanking on it as she kneed Cara’s thighs open. This. And Kahlan moaned into Cara’s mouth at the sensation, of Cara’s flesh, warm and wet, against her fingers. At Cara’s quick and easy acquiescence, already rolling her hips, offering herself to Kahlan’s touch.

Cara whimpered into Kahlan’s mouth, like she was breaking all over again. She couldn’t take back what had happened, the loss they’d shared, the missing time. All she had was now and, maybe, the future. She’d stood on a beach and made a promise. She was Kahlan’s - mind, body and spirit. And she gave herself, with lips and rolling hips, saying the things she could never really express with words. Kahlan’s faith, Kahlan’s love, things Cara wasn’t supposed to want, things she almost lost.

 _I love you. I am yours. All of me._

Then, the hand between Cara’s legs quickly withdrew and Cara cried out in sudden frustration.

Kahlan dropped to her knees, jerking Cara’s slacks down to her knees. Her eyes went black as Cara’s scent filled her nostrils and she plunged forward. Palms flat, fingers digging into Cara’s flesh to pull open her thighs, Kahlan clamped her mouth on Cara’s sex. Cara rolling her hips, hand threading into Kahlan’s hair as Kahlan jutted her tongue in a perfect rhythm.

But it just wasn’t enough. Not for Kahlan. There were too many restraints, too many barriers, not enough skin against. Withdrawing her tongue, Kahlan rose to her feet.

They danced across the room, an almost awkward, clumsy movement. Connected at the lips, hands fumbled and yanked and pulled at the clothing between them. Then it was nothing but skin against skin and Kahlan pushed when the backs of Cara’s knees hit the bed.

Kahlan clambered over Cara, growling at the sight of her wife, her love, naked before her. Then her eyes went soft, pained. Underweight, almost gaunt, Kahlan ran her fingers over the ribs now visible, the new scars on Cara’s body.

“Oh, my love,” she whispered, bringing her lips to the healed knife wound under Cara’s left breast, like she could erase the scar with only her mouth. She lathed Cara’s skin with her tongue, hands groping her breasts, fingers pinching nipples. Lips and tongue against smooth skin, stomach muscles trembling under her touch, Kahlan lowered.

Thighs on Kahlan’s shoulders, with that first swipe of Kahlan’s tongue, Cara’s back arched, fingers curling the sheets into white-knuckled fists. She reached down with one hand, Kahlan finding it and their fingers threading together. A pained grunt, like a saw drawn slowly over wood, extended from Cara’s throat. No more barriers, walls, or hiding places where she kept her ‘weakness’ locked tight. No more places for Cara to hide. For almost a year, she’d buried it, numbed herself to any and all sensation other than pain. All for this. All for her. When Kahlan touched her, slid her fingers into her, the magic just *thrumming* through her, Cara‘s walls crumbled, and she came undone as everything within spilled out.

Cara keened, a wail of ecstasy, anguish, pain and joy. Her body continued to tremble and shudder as Kahlan took everything Cara had to give. And everything Cara had continued to spill from her, like a dam under too much water. But it was more than physical. It overwhelmed Cara. She didn’t fight it as her eyes burned and the tears fell. Cara didn’t know how. Didn’t know how to stop the wracking sobs convulsing her chest. Once it started, Cara didn’t know how to stop.

“Oh Cara,” Kahlan whispered gently, brushing her lips over Cara’s. “My love.”

Weak. Cara had become weak. She didn’t think of what her former Sisters would say, or the looks of contempt and scorn she would receive. If this was weakness - to be loved, fully and completely, unconditionally - then Cara would be weak. She let Kahlan roll her into Kahlan’s arms, as she sobbed uncontrollably into Kahlan’s neck. Cara accepted this weakness, and curled into the embrace of the one person who made her strong.

**

Kahlan slid her arm over the mattress. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat, a moment of panic, frightened she’d woken from a dream and back into a reality where she still slept alone. She calmed, feeling the warmth of the mattress next to her, the languid soreness in her muscles that let her know the last couple hours were *anything* but a dream.

Cara was home. Kahlan didn’t want to think too much about Cara’s new scars, both internal and external. There would be time for healing, for all of them. All that mattered was she was home.

She was close to drifting back to sleep when she heard the subtle creaking of the rocking chair. Lips curling into a soft contented smile, Kahlan didn’t have to roll over to know Cara was seated in the rocking chair holding Isabel.

“Cara,” she mumbled sleepily into her pillow. “Come back to bed.”

The creaking continued.

Kahlan breathed a chuckle. “You can bring Isabel with you.”

The creaking stopped. The bed dipped with Isabel’s familiar weight and Kahlan instinctively reached out to brush her fingers over the tiny forehead. She opened her eyes to see Cara, on the other side of Isabel, gazing back at her, hair haloed by the dim moonlight spilling into the room. And the contented smile on Kahlan’s lips broadened as Cara smiled back.

There were still problems in the world - Darken Rahl, the false Seeker, Mord’Sith, Sisters of the Dark and on and on. Maybe it was selfish, Kahlan thought. But in this moment, the only world that mattered to Kahlan extended as far as the edge of the mattress.

She watched as Cara’s face went serious, brows crinkling, lips pursing in that way of hers when she has something particularly uncomfortable to say. Then, Cara’s face just.. relaxed, completely accepting whatever epiphany had come to her.

Cara leaned towards Kahlan, careful to avoid bumping Isabel and waking their child. She brushed her lips against Kahlan’s, softly, tenderly.

“I love you,” Cara whispered. Then she exhaled, surprised at how easily the words fell from her lips.

“I know,” Kahlan grinned as she kissed Cara back, then traced a fingertip across Cara’s mouth. This was her world. It had been broken, shattered into a million pieces and, still, they found a way to put it all back together again. They put it back together into something even better than before.

The way it was supposed to be.

THE END


End file.
